


Promises Kept

by damedeleslac



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Amputation, Assault, Deaf Clint Barton, Gen, Hospitals, Hurt, Revenge
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-25
Updated: 2015-08-02
Packaged: 2018-03-15 04:37:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3433802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/damedeleslac/pseuds/damedeleslac
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An old acquaintance helps Clint keep a promise</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_Promises Kept_

 

* * *

 

 

Clint ignored the doctor; not to the point of turning off his hearing aides, mostly just tuning out all but the important words . Like 'head trauma' and assault' and 'recovery period'.

The bruises covering Darcy's face distract him.

There's a dark purple splotch where one of her eyes is meant to be, a long mottled line down the her cheek on the same side and a hand print on the other side, stitches along her cheek bones and eyebrows where her glasses had been broken while still on her face.

The doctor; Enright, Clint thinks she might be a surgeon, mentions a fractured cheek bone, a broken rib and a laceration to her right lung and his gaze travels down.

The bruises around Darcy's neck are the same size as the one on her cheek, her hands and arms have more bruises, cuts and scrapes, her finger nails are almost shredded.

Clint stepped up to the bed and lifted the blankets away from her feet.

Broken toes, bruised, cut and scraped knees and shins. He lifted the blankets higher. and the doctor stopped him, putting one of her hands next to his.

The expression on her face looks nothing like pity.

"Darcy was attacked, assaulted. But she fought back and was rescued before anything worse could happen."

Clint didn't want to think about worse. The doctor lifted the blankets out of Clint's grasp, showing bruises and scrapes on Darcy's knees and thighs and hips and torso. It looked like she'd been thrown against a dumpster a dozen or so times, but there's nothing that looks like hands or fingers.

Clint latched onto a word. "Rescued?"

"A Good Samaritan, he called the cops and an ambulance."

"Where ?" Clint's voice was cold and hard and the doctor shivered a little, "Where did this happen?"

"Who ever did this," She tucked the blankets back around Darcy, "They aren't there any more, when Darcy-"

"If." He's heard enough to know that this is an if not when situation, "If Darcy wakes up, I want to be able to tell her that the people who did this-"

"You might be a Superhero now, Mr Hawkeye," She uses a name no-one at the hospital should know, "But if you do this you won't be. And you won't be here for Darcy. You'll just be a criminal, not better than the person responsible"

"I've been a criminal before," The look on his face makes the doctor take a step back, "And if it means that he can't do this to anyone else, I don't care what I'll be."

"She'll care."

"If" Is Clint's only response.

 

<><><><><><>

 

 Clint hated narrow crooked alleys, especially New York alleys. Most people didn't look down them, didn't want to see what might be there.

The one where Darcy had been attacked, had been assaulted, where her head, her whole self, had been slammed against the hard surfaces more than once, has uniformed police officers guarding both ends of it.

"You won't find anything," A low raspy voice informed him, "I'm sorry about the girl Barton."

Clint has to look up to see the face that goes with the voice. John _Fucking_ Reese. "I heard you died."

"I'm hard to kill, just like your girl."

"Not my girl, a friend's girl. Promised I'd take care of her."

"Hard to do when you're trying to keep a low profile, doesn't work when you're planning revenge either." Reese nodded toward the alley, "I can take care of this."

Clint took a closer look at John ( _Fucking_ ) Reese.

There's grey in his hair, a bud in his ear and he's wearing a $3000 suit. A $3000 suit with blood stains on the sleeves.

"Do all Good Samaritans hunt down svoloch' svoloch'yu these days?"

"Some of them." Reese sounded like he knew that smiling would be a bad idea, "The svoloch' svoloch'yu is my responsibility."

Clint's hands clenched and he had to unclench them before he tried to hit something... or someone. "An asset?"

"A target."

"He's done this before?"

"Go back to the hospital Barton. My ledger can take the red, yours shouldn't have to."

"You sound like Nat."

"She'd tell you the same thing," A sleek black car slid to a stop in front of them, Reese stepped forward to open the door for Clint, "I'll let you know when it's done."

 

<><><><><><>

 

Clint hated the hospital more than he hated the alley where Darcy had been assaulted.

Bruising always looked worse before it got better and the swelling always hid other injuries.

Like the internal bleed that had Darcy being rushed back into the operating room.

And sent Clint pacing up and down the hallways. He hated hospitals.

The smell of wet dog made him glance back the way he'd just walked.

"I thought dogs weren't allowed in hospitals?"

"Bear's an exception, therapy dog," The kid holding the lead explained, "The orderlies insist on giving him a bath before I bring him up. But the patients like him and I get a 'volunteer' entry on my college applications."

"Everybody wins." Bear leaned against Clint's leg and whined.

"He wants you to pat him."

"I got that." Clint gave the dog an unsympathetic look, "Not until my friend's ok."

The dog whined again. The kid rolled his eyes and gave a short, gentle pull on the leash. "Bear, laten."

"What's your name kid?" Anyone with an military trained Belgium Malinois was worth knowing.

"Tyler, what's yours?"

"Clint."

Tyler held out a hand for Clint to shake. He had a firm dry handshake. "I hope your friend gets better."

"Me too."

 

<><><><><><>

 

"Mr Reese?" Finch's voice interrupted, "Are you sure this is the right course of action? Would your friend approve?"

"Barton's not my friend Finch," Reese looked down at the secateurs, then up at their most current number, hanging by his feet from the rafters, "But someone who is wouldn't stop at just his fingers."

"You sound far too happy at that prospect, John."

"I didn't get to him in time. It's the least I can do."

"The least we can do is call the police, Mr Reese."

"It's the least I can do for his victims, Harold."

"...Let me know when you call Detective Fusco."

"Will do."

"...And Mr Reese?"

"Yes, Finch?"

"I do hope you're not planning on bringing any souvenirs back to the library."

 

<><><><><><>

 

Movement outside of Darcy's hospital room made Clint turn his hearing aides on.

" - Trying to tell me you did that guy a favour? He's missing six fingers and both his arms are broken." Detective Carter sounded angry and not a little horrified, "What the hell kind of favour is that?"

"The one where he doesn't get buried alive in a nest of fire ants, Joss"

Clint turned his hearing aides off again, giving Darcy a warm smile and getting a tired/medicated one in return.

John ( _Fucking_ ) Reese had taken care of it. Maybe not to Nat's liking, but taking away the svoloch' svoloch'yu's ability to touch things had a certain flare to it.

Phil would've appreciated it.

 

<><><><><><>

 

 

svoloch' svoloch'yu - bastard scum (Google Translate - Russian, phonetic)

Laten - leave (Google Translate - Dutch)


	2. Debts Repaid.

 

 

 

Debts Repaid.

 

"The FBI found Simmons the other day," Finch said almost absently, watching the world outside the safe house window, "They had to use dental records to identity him. Apparently  _someone_ buried him up to his knees in a nest of fire ants."

He looked back at John, at the machines surrounding him. "But you wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Set between 'The Crossing' and' The Devil's Share'.


End file.
